


Home Is Where The Cats Are

by GingerAle3



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (he's also anxious), (mostly background though) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Is A Good Boyfriend, Gerard Keay Lives, Horror Author Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, M/M, Other, Teacher Martin Blackwood, What No I'm Not Projecting Onto Jon Why Do You Ask, What The Ghost? Guest Star Gerard Keay, also featuring, cliche kitten acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerAle3/pseuds/GingerAle3
Summary: "Jon was there, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and looking remarkably like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He was holding something small and fluffy, and it all clicked into place.The sound hadn’t been a squeak.It had been a very tiny meow."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 188





	Home Is Where The Cats Are

It was 6:30 on a Friday evening and Gerry was shattered. Several hours of recording the latest episode, several more hours of writing the next episode, and taking the tube to and from Georgie and Melanie’s building halfway across the city added up to a long, long day. Sure, he loved his job: being vaguely ominous and cryptic had always been something of a hobby, a good way to pass the time, so making a living out of it was always entertaining. Days like that particular day though, the knowledge that he could have been back home an hour ago if the other two could just agree on how many sound effects were necessary wasn’t lost in him.

As he came to the front of the house, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw the figure at the door, fumbling with the keys and muttering in frustration as his gloved hands refused to cooperate. Between that and the papers practically spilling out of his bag, it didn’t take a genius to work out that Martin had had a long day too. Keeping his footsteps purposely loud, he stepped up behind Martin, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek as he reached over with his own key and unlocked the door easily.

“Long day?” Martin huffed at this, but placed a slightly distracted kiss of his own onto the side of Gerry’s head as he passed.

“You have no idea. Bloody news put out a weather alert for snow this morning, so all my classes just spent the whole time staring out of the window! Yeah, sure, the torrential rain will definitely turn into snow any second now. With how wet the ground is, it wouldn’t settle even if it did snow! Honestly, sometimes I think…” At this point the complaints shifted into vague mutters as they both kicked off their shoes and hung their coats up, Martin also peeling off his winter gear.

“Sounds rough.” Gerry nudged his shoulder up next to Martin’s, who leaned his head slightly over with a sigh.

“It wasn’t that bad, really. Just frustrating. Plus I had to stay behind to get some grading done, and then there’s the fact that it’s so cold outside…” He shivered a little at this, even in the warmth of their house, and Gerry frowned slightly. It was no mystery to any of them why Martin hated cold weather. Wrapping one of his arms firmly around his shoulders, Gerry pulled him into a quick, tight hug, standing slightly on tip-toes to fully surround his boyfriend. Burrowing deeper with a small, happy sound, Martin squeezed back, bending slightly to better tuck his head under Gerry’s chin.

“Better?”

“Mmph.” It sounded like a roughly affirmative sound, so after a moment he pulled away to look Martin in the eyes. His face was slightly flushed, but his smile was as bright as the sun, so Gerry was reasonably confident he’d done his job right. Martin leaned in, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and for far from the first time Gerry wondered how the hell he got so lucky.

“So, want to go find Jon? Drag him away from his desk if he’s still there?” Martin winced at that.

“God, I hope he’s not, his back will be hurting for a week if he’s been hunched over his computer for this long.” They both knew there was a strong possibility. It was something he was working on, but more often than not it would take one of them getting home to snap Jon out of his focus once he hit his stride. At first, Martin had worried that it was another remainder of the Eye’s influence, like the odd days he still had where he couldn’t sleep properly, or looked at random people in the street like they could answer any question he’d ever had. When he voiced his concerns though, Jon got a little sheepish, explaining that no, that was just how he’d always been when it came to things that interested him. Yes, he was ultimately writing to passively feed the Eye, but the writing fixation he fell into really was just his own hyperfocus.

Both were quiet as they climbed the stairs, carefully skipping the squeaky floorboard halfway up more out of habit than any actual concern about the consequences. They didn’t have to say it, but they were both listening out for the tell-tale hammering of keys or muttering that meant Jon was in the middle of writing. As they approached the door to his office though, the lights were off inside and the door was ajar, not even the faint glow of a computer screen coming from inside. That was when they finally heard a noise.

It came from the living room. It wasn’t the rhythmic sound of typing, nor was it the preoccupied almost-sentences Jon came out with when he was writing. In fact, it didn’t sound like it came from Jon at all. It was more of a...squeak? They looked at each other confused, confirming that no, they weren’t imagining things, there was definitely a squeak from the living room, and as they glanced back towards the door they heard the same noise again. This time though, they did hear Jon’s voice, not preoccupied or focused, but soft and quiet, too gentle to make out anything but the affection practically dripping from its tone.

Gerry was still trying to work out what the noise was, but Martin had clearly grown frustrated by the wait. Wordlessly, he reached past, grabbed the handle, and opened the door.

Jon was there, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and looking remarkably like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He was holding something small and fluffy, and it all clicked into place.

The sound hadn’t been a squeak.

It had been a very tiny meow.

In Jon’s hands was a small calico kitten, soft fur sticking out everywhere and squirming a little. There was a moment of silence in the room except for the tiny, mewing creature their boyfriend was holding so gently. As Martin started to take a breath to speak though, he was beaten to it. Not by Jon, not by Gerry, but by a small chorus of equally tiny meows coming from behind Jon’s back. Shifting to see better, they could see that behind Jon’s back, in a makeshift nest of old blankets, was a small pile of kittens slowly waking up and staggering over each other. Jon carefully laid the calico back into the nest, softly cooing ‘there you go’ as he did so, and they quickly settled as he stood up, still looking flustered.

“Jon?” Martin started carefully. “Why is there a nest of kittens in our living room?”

“Oh, ah...I gave them a bath first and I didn’t want them getting cold. I figured some of the old blankets we don’t use would keep them warm while I checked them for any injuries.” Obviously distracted, he glanced back at the nest of now-sleeping cats. Gerry carefully held back a snort.

“Love, he wasn’t asking “why the nest”, he was asking “why the kittens”. Pretty sure they weren’t there when we left this morning.” He kept his tone gentle, and Jon’s face shifted to surprised realisation.

“Oh, right! Did I not...never mind. Well, uh, I knew we were out of milk, so I thought I’d go out and get some when I stopped for lunch.” Gerry saw Martin’s proud smile cover his confusion for a moment, and knew his own face probably looked the same. Getting Jon to stop his work and actually eat something could be a battle sometimes, and while they’d often send him a message to remind him, it was always a toss-up whether he actually would or not. Again, something he was working on. “Anyway, I went out to the shops, and you know how heavily it was raining earlier, and well… I was passing an alley, th-the one around the corner from here on the way back from the Co-op? And, well, I heard a meow, and-and someone had just...left them there! In a cardboard box with ‘free to a good home’ on the side! And it- it was raining and cold and they were so small and…” He looked away from the two of them, his voice quieting. “I couldn’t just...leave them there.”

Gerry’s heart broke a little at how sad he sounded, and Martin didn’t look much better off. Before either could react though, Jon seemed to steel himself, looking back up with a slightly desperate expression.

“I...I contacted the local shelter, but they don’t really have the room for five new cats right now, and I’m not just going to put them back out on the street. I’m going to look after them, I-I’ll keep them out of the way and, and take care of them myself and, and, and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, easy love, easy…” Gerry stepped forwards and rested his hands on Jon’s now-heaving shoulders, taking deep breaths to encourage him to do the same. He felt Martin come up beside him, reaching out to wipe away the stray tear that had slipped out. After a long moment, Jon’s breathing started returning to normal, and Gerry felt another flash of pride at how quickly he’d calmed from his spiral. Wordlessly, he and Martin drew Jon towards them, wrapping him in both of their arms and gently murmuring to him.

“That’s it, keep breathing.”

“It’s okay darling.”

“We've got you.”

“You’re okay.”

Eventually, they shifted over to the sofa, collapsing onto it in a heap of tangled limbs and love and exhaustion. Martin was on his back, with Jon draped over him, and Gerry wedged between Jon and the back of the sofa. One arm was thrown across the others, the other awkwardly sandwiched in next to Martin and slowly developing pins and needles. Not necessarily the most comfortable position, but the angle made it easy to see that Jon had finally relaxed completely, his face buried into Martin’s jumper and the fingers of one of his hands holding onto Gerry’s sleeve gently. Martin was eventually the one to break the silence.

“So...five cats, huh?” Jon winced a little as he looked up at Martin’s face, but the expression he found was fond and loving, if a little teasing.

“I can take care of them, don’t worry. Just...do you mind? If I do keep them?” At this, Gerry really did snort.

“No way are you keeping them all to yourself. I’ll have you know I am gonna be the cats’ favourite dad.” Jon gaped up at him as Martin sniggered.

“Not fair! I’ll have you know that actually, I’m gonna be their favourite. I accepted a long time ago that I was going to be a gay cat-dad when I was older, the only thing that’s changed is that I’m doing it with my boyfriends instead of on my own.” Jon’s head whipped back to Martin fast enough to be comical.

“Oh really? What makes you more qualified to be the favourite?”

“I wear softer clothes.”

“I have practice from more time with The Admiral”

“You’ve both told me that I’m the best for napping on.”

“I got used to herding cats from you lot back at the Institute.”

“I’m a teacher.”

“...Touché.”

Throughout their playful argument, Jon’s head shifted back and forth like he was watching a tennis match, his face softening each time they spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Actually, I’m going to be their favourite.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” asked Martin with a grin. Jon looked over at the nest with a painfully fond expression.

“Because I brought them home.” It was hard to disagree with that point. Bowing out of the argument, Gerry nestled his head into Martin’s shoulder, dragged Jon a little closer, and listened to them talking, the love and affection surrounding him like a blanket. Closing his eyes, he savoured the feeling of being home.

**Author's Note:**

> wow i actually wrote a thing? and finished it? what is this witchcraft...  
> (shoutout to the folks on the JonGerryMartin server, never would've finished this without that constant stream of jgm goodness :D )


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